


Caffeine

by dragonflycas



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Stucky - Freeform, steve rogers is an awkward duckling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 06:23:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5655838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonflycas/pseuds/dragonflycas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers does not drink coffee. But for the sake of the cute barista he still buys one every morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caffeine

**Author's Note:**

> Can also be found on tumblr: http://honorarylittlewolf.tumblr.com/post/136762458750/cross-posted-to-ao3-steve-rogers-does-not-like

Steve Rogers does not like coffee. In fact, he’s physically incapable of drinking it since caffeine mixed with some of his medications tends to have the unfortunate side effect of “death.”

Yet he goes into the little coffee shop on the corner every morning (except Thursdays and Sundays), and orders coffee and a pastry. Because he has a hopeless crush on the guy who makes it.

It’s not like the coffee goes to waste, his dumb crush is the best thing to ever happen to his roommate. He’s probably saving Sam $20 a week. Which is only slightly comforting considering the whole ridiculous situation.

It’s silly, he should just stop going. It’s not like James would ever really look at him twice. He’s probably just another blur, melted in with the ebb and flow of customers. He should stop going. But he won’t.

The wind chases him inside, and he breathes a sigh of relief as his numb nose and ears begin to tingle from the warmth of the little shop. He looks up towards the counter, and he can tell from the quirk of James’ eyebrow and the stiff press of his lips that he’s trying not to laugh at the little blond. Understandable. In his two sweaters, coat, hat, gloves, and scarf, Steve looks more like a coat rack than a person.

He makes his way up to the counter and asks for coffee and a danish.

“Want me to heat it up for you?” James offers as he pulls the danish from the case.

“Sure, thanks.”

The barista sticks the danish in the toaster and then moves to making “Steve’s” coffee. As he slides the cup and bag across the counter (both wonderfully warm to Steve’s frozen fingers) he hesitates before adding, “You could stay here and eat, the place’s empty.”

Steve glances around, not having realized that the two other customers who’d been sitting at tables when he walked in had left while he was busy wondering if James’ hair was as soft as it looked.

He wants to say yes. He can’t say yes. If he stays, James will expect him to drink the coffee. He’s been getting one for three months, he already ordered this one, he can’t just not drink it. If he drinks it, either he’ll have a heart attack or his doctor will when he confesses the caffeine intake to her.

Sorry, I gotta do something, is what he means to say. What comes out instead is “Sure,” because apparently he has a death wish. Then, “Sit with me?” like he needed to nail the coffin himself.

James’ smile is worth it, bright and warm enough to turn the storm outside into a beautiful Summer day. “I don’t think anyone’ll be coming by in this weather anyway.”

Steve smiles back, and pretends he isn’t doomed as he sits down at the closest table and watches James drop into the chair across from him. “So,” he pulls the danish from its bag and gives it an unnecessary amount of attention as a pretense for avoiding the coffee, “do you uh, live around here?”

“Yeah, a little ways East, you?” James shrugs, leaning back in his chair.

“Yeah, a little ways East, you?” James shrugs, leaning back in his chair.

“Just two blocks down the street,” Steve mirrors the shrug and nibbles at his danish. He has to make it last as long as possible, delay the inevitable. Eventually, barring act of God, James was going to ask about the coffee, and Steve would have to confess his bordering-on-stalkerish behavior over the past three months.

“I’m Bucky, by the way. I mean, I’m James too, but my friends call me Bucky,” the brunet offers Steve another summer-smile, and the blond feels like he’d never been warm before in his life.

“I’m just Steve,” he shrugs again, wishing he had more to offer. Friends. He likes that. It’s a step up from the stranger he’d assumed Bucky saw him as.

“Your coffee’s getting cold, Steve.” Shit, he’d known it was coming but still, it makes him cringe back against his chair.

“Um, about that…” He stares down at the table, picking flakes of dough off his pastry. “I don’t… drink coffee.”

“What?” Bucky frowns, and it’s cold, cold, cold again, winter settling into Steve’s bones. “But you get one every morning.”

“Yeah, then I walk home and give them to my roommate. I um, fuck, I’m sorry. I just… I saw you going to work one day, and you stopped to help this old lady with her groceries. I thought it was really nice and I wanted to tell you so but when I followed you you went into here and by the time I got into the line I felt silly and by the time I reached you at the counter I didn’t know what to say and it seemed weird to admit I followed you so I just ordered a coffee and you’re really stupidly attractive and nice so I kept coming back but I couldn’t get myself to really talk to you and it just… got out of hand.” He’s wheezing a little by the end, having pushed it all out in a jumbled mess of words now laying scattered on the table between them. He hopes Bucky isn’t mad. He hopes it’s not as creepy as he feels like it is.

For a long minute, Bucky is silent, staring at Steve with a mixed expression that’s mostly shocked. Then, he starts to laugh. It bubbles up slow, then boils over, until there’s tears streaking his face and Steve’s is bright red from humiliation.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, pleading. At least Bucky’s not yelling, or throwing him out, or calling the cops for a restraining order.

“You,” Bucky gasps finally, straightening up and wiping his eyes, “are the cutest damn thing I’ve ever met, y’know that?”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to wear the shocked look as he blinks at Bucky. “What?”

Casually, Bucky reaches across the table and grabs the coffee cup, smirking at Steve as he takes a sip. “Can’t let it go to waste,” he shrugs, shaking his head. “Stevie, I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to write my number on your cup since like the third day you came in here.”

“Really?” Maybe this isn’t his doom like he thought. Or maybe he’s already dead, maybe he froze on his way here and this is Heaven’s fake reality. Either way, he’s relieved.

“Yeah, ya’ dork.” This time when Bucky laughs, Steve does too, feeling light and free and happy. Somehow, miraculously, he managed to not screw this up. “What’d’ya’ say we go out sometime so you don’t have to buy pointless coffee just t’see my pretty face?”

“It wasn’t pointless,” Steve protests, grinning. “My roommate was thrilled. But I’d much rather see you for an extended period of time over food I can actually eat.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven for dinner then. But first,” Bucky’s gaze flicks to the door, “I’m gonna walk you home, with a storm like that I’m surprised y’didn’t fly away on your way here.” Steve tries to protest Bucky leaving work for him, but the brunet will have none of it. "No one’s coming anyway.”

They walk hand-in-hand, and Steve tingles from the contact, feeling flushed despite the bitter cold. At his apartment, he insists Bucky stay a minute before going back out into the gale. The minute becomes an hour, then two, then… they end up entwined on the couch watching Netflix after Bucky calls his boss to say the storm forced him to close the store.

Sam comes home, sees them, and curses.

“I’ll keep buying ya’ coffee, Sam, don’t worry,” Steve assures, smiling like a cat from his perch in Bucky’s lap.

“It’s not that, this means I lost,” Sam grumbles, unspooling his scarf. “Natasha bet January, I bet March.”


End file.
